Being unemployed is hard work.

Unemployed, Day 53

I recently updated my résumé to make it more modern-looking and I edited some of the text to better fit into a marketing/PR/writing job. I’m a perfectionist (or maybe more of a nitpick), so I every day I open the file and change a word or add a skill so it can stand out amongst the many other résumés that employers are receiving. Maybe I’m trying to convince myself that the way my résumé comes across is the reason I can’t find a job, not the crappy economy. Either way, it keeps me occupied during my down time between job searches. I will have the most refined and downright flawless list of credentials that you will want to hire me to write yours.

I’ve been working the mall job for the past few days. That’s going well. Shifts are only 4-5 hours long, which is perfect for me because my face starts to hurt from smiling somewhere around 3 1/2 hours in. Still haven’t made back the money I had to spend on their clothes (to wear while I’m working). Maybe in a few months. I can say that the job is the easiest work I’ve ever done. And I’ve done some easy stuff. All you have to do is offer to help people find clothes. Most of the time they tell you to mind your damn business and leave them the hell alone. So it works out for me just fine. I did experience my first confusing situation today, however. A sweet older Asian lady came in looking for some pants. I couldn’t understand a word she said, God bless her. Something about, “My daughter… why she wear so biiiggg? Better get bigger size. She so biiiigggg. I tell her she too fat.” I helped her find some pants for herself and for her fatty daughter.

Hung out with my boy Brandon on Friday night while the ladies had a “girls night.” Saw a little person wearing pleated pants. Looked like he had stuffed some potatoes in there. The girls met us out at the end of the night, blitzed and cock-eyed. Knocking over drinks. Screaming. Dancing. Somebody made out with a guy who looked like Edward from Twilight, apparently. They were all a flutter over that. No, it wasn’t my wife. I hope.

Other than that, there hasn’t been much going on in my boring life. I might head down to the pool this evening while wifey is babysitting. But first, I’m gonna house this frozen pizza like cookie monster goes after cookies. That’ll help out my poolside physique.

This is Day 53, folks. Nitpicking my résumé. Helping old Asian ladies buy clothes for their whale of a daughter. Frozen pizza = a tubby gut that doubles as a floatation device.